


Inktober 2020 - The Hogan's Heroes Bits

by california_112



Category: Hogan's Heroes (TV 1965)
Genre: Collected works, Gen, Lukas Annenberg (OC), Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28768818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: COLLECTED WORKS - TEMPORARYIf you want to comment/kudos, please do it on the originals as this will be deleted :)This work is nine individual Inktober pieces collated for the purposes of the Papa Bear Awards 2021. It will be deleted after the competition, but the individual works are up already and will stay there!ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHING
Comments: 6
Kudos: 3





	1. Bulky

Half an hour before they should have, Newkirk and Carter returned from picking up a supply drop from London. Intrigued, Colonel Hogan came out of his office to meet them as they emerged from the bunk.

"What's the matter?" he asked, slight concern showing on his face.

"Don't count on those supplies, sir," Newkirk replied, "they weren't dropped."

"But the aircraft confirmed they'd dropped our request!" Kinch said, confused. "I picked up the message myself!"

"Oh, they dropped a request alright, boy- uh, sir." Carter told the Colonel. "It was a jeep."

The casual delivery caught everyone off guard, but Carter continued taking his shirt off like nothing was out of the ordinary. Kinch was the first to reply.

"A jeep, Andrew?"

"Sure! Looked like a jeep, felt like a jeep, drove like a jeep." Carter ticked off on his fingers, nodding. "It was a jeep."

"Thank you, doctor." Hogan said, half turning away.

He froze half way, turning back quickly. "Drove?"

"Well, it was too bulky to carry, and the gas tank was full, so we drove." Carter was nonchalantly washing his face of boot polish smears.

Hogan's gaze turned to Newkirk, who had been trying to blend into the barracks wall. "Newkirk, you went along with this?"

"Well, sir, I wasn't too happy with it, but what else were we supposed to do?" he replied, defensively. "Big black thing sitting in the middle of a field like that, the goons would have spotted it as soon as it got light!"

"Where did you leave it?"

"Camouflaged in the woods." Newkirk said.

"How far from camp?"

"About a mile."

"Great, that's great." Hogan started pacing. "Well, I suppose it was the best you could do."

"The best we could do? What else could we do? That was a ruddy good job, if I say so myself, sir."

"And you do." As he sat down at the table, Hogan was deep in thought. "We need to get rid of that jeep, and fast."

Kinch grinned. "Sell it for parts?"

"This is no time for joking." Hogan said, harsher than he'd meant to, then paused. "But it is the time to go into the auto parts business. Kinch, tell me more."

"We take it to bits, and sell them. It would be hard to get them back, but it would be better than having it discovered."

There was silence in the barracks as Hogan's mind whirred. He stood up a minute later, eyes sparkling. "Kinch, that's a great idea. I know of a market that just opened up for vehicle spares."

"You do?" Carter asked, confused.

"Yeah. Tomorrow morning, Klink's Car Club is going to find itself missing quite a few vital parts."


	2. Fancy

The barracks door opened, admitting both Schultz and a large gust of freezing wind. The men gathered around the table and stove briefly looked round, but seeing their barracks guard lost interest. There was a card game going, and even though it was the eighth of the morning, it still seemed at least more engaging that Schultz's small talk. Although, on this occasion, they had the rare pleasure of being proven wrong.

Schultz made straight for the Colonel, who was pouring himself yet another cup of coffee.

"Colonel _Ho_ gan!"

Like his men, the colonel looked around briefly before returning his gaze to the stove. "Heya Schultzie, what's up?"

"Kommandant Klink wants to see you in his office," was the reply, as the guard angled for a cup of coffee, "he says it is urgent."

"What's it about, Schultz, I haven't got all day. There's a thrilling card game going on, high stakes!"

"Gambling?" Schultz asked suspiciously, walking over to the table, "What's the bet?"

"Three to one on Newkirk," Carter replied glumly, shuffling his cards.

Schultz growled. "Oooh, that's naughty," he said to Hogan, briefly turning back to add "Put me down for ten marks!" before returning to the Colonel, "you'll have to stop! I don't want to see it again!"

"But Kilnk does want to see me, Schultz." Hogan pressed a mug of steaming coffee into the guard's hands. "What about?"

The Sergeant looked around furtively and sipped his drink before replying. "The Heindorf bridge…is gone!"

"Oh, that old thing? Did you tell him to look down the back of the couch?"

"Please, do not joke. We have not _lost_ it, Colonel, it has been blown up!"

"Well! Fancy that." Hogan replied, looking around his men with feigned surprise.

"And it is not old, it was only finished last Friday, two days ago!"

"So?"

"By _your_ men, Colonel Hogan. The Kommandant, he is-" Schultz mimed steam coming out of ears.

Hogan nodded understandingly. "I'll be over in a minute, Schultz, I just want to tidy something up."

"Can it not wait until you get back? Please, Colonel Hogan, if you don't come, then-"

"Calm it, Schultz, I'll only be a minute." Hogan paused in the doorway to his office. "Don't you _want_ me to have a good cover story?"

The guard's eyes widened, and he muttered under his breath as he made a dive for the door. "I see nothing, I hear no- _thing_!"


	3. Disgusting

"So? What do you think of it?"

"Honestly?"

"No, LeBeau, I want you to lie to me. Just tell me what you think!"

"Alright, alright."

"…and?"

"It's…interesting…"

"Is that a good 'interesting' or a bad 'interesting'."

" _Pierre_ , I do not know quite how to describe these- were they vegetables?"

"They _are_ vegetables. What's wrong with them then?"

"The carrot is too soft, but the potatoes are somehow too hard. These _legumes verts_ , they've all merged together!"

"Well, I was just tryin' me best."

"It was a good effort, _mon ami_ , but you need some instruction if you are to be a chef."

"If you had to describe it in a word?"

"I am sorry- disgusting. But, but, I can show you how to do these just right, then they will be _magnifique_."

"Thanks, Louis, I appreciate it!"

"So does my palette. Let's go."


	4. Outpost

The woods were wet, bare branches dull with damp and a carpet of leaves slowly mulching into the ground. No cover was offered, but it was not needed: the night was almost stygian, starlight blocked out by a thick layer of low cloud. No breeze blew, and it was surprisingly warm even by the side of the silent black lake. At exactly midnight, a lamp flared, even its small flame a beacon in the darkness.

A few moments later, two figures emerged from the surrounding dark forest, and approached the boy behind the light, who extinguished it as they got closer. Meeting, the two parties conducted their whispered conversation in darkness.

"Nice outpost you've got here." Papa Bear gestured to the forest before realising that this wouldn't be seen.

"Thank you." Little Bear smiled, happy to hear the Colonel's voice again. "It is not much, but it offers a perfect view of the lake."

"That's what we've come about," the other man started, "I picked up your message. What's been going on?"

"I was out here on my own, just for a walk, when I heard an order being shouted. There are training exercises being done on the lake."

"Kriegsmarine?"

"No, they were _Wehrmacht_ , I know the uniform." There was an almost unnoticeable pause before Lukas continued. "They were in barges, not usual boats. About fifty soldiers, a handful of officers, and three barges. Those are moored on the other side of the lake, you cannot see them now but they are very clear in the day. I told people that I was going hunting in this part of the forest the day before yesterday, and I have been camped out here ever since."

"Great job! You got all that, Kinch?"

"Sure did. Good work, Little Bear."

"Thank you, I am glad I am being useful at last."

"At last?" Hogan made a depreciative noise. "You've been helpful ever since that first train job! And that radio relay that you did recently was brilliant."

"Yeah, we couldn't have done it without you, our big aerial's still out of action."

"How are you going to relay this information to London, then?" Lukas asked, clearly confused.

"I'll think of something. Shhh!"

The party fell silent, listening, but the forest was silent. Hogan surreptitiously felt inside his civilian jacket to check his gun was there, and he knew that Kinch was doing the same just to his left. After a minute of quiet, he whispered again.

"We should go, we're pushing it as it is."

"Contact us if you need anything."

"I will, thank you. _Viel Glück!_ "

As quietly as they had come, the two figures merged into the forest once more, and Little Bear sat down next to the remains of his campfire. The next day would be long, sitting concealed in the dripping forest with the occasional squall of rain, but he knew that every piece of information could be another tiny step closer to the war ending, and an Allied victory was afoot.


	5. Dizzy

On reflection, Newkirk really shouldn't have refused the underground member’s help. He'd been perfectly prepared to accompany him back to camp, and he could really have used a steadying hand now that the trees were leaping and swaying in front of him.

The need for silence had been overridden by the need to stay upright, and Newkirk was painfully aware that his footsteps were very loud in the silence of the forest. He was also painfully aware of the sharp throbbing in his left temple, at about the same time he realised that the forest floor was very, very comfortable.

* * *

Someone was trying to get him to drink something, and he pulled back slightly, feeling afraid and disorientated. Opening his eyes, the room was too dark for detail, but he soon recognised the person ministering to him by their distinctive silhouette and mumbled stream of comforting French.

He soon recognised the drink as LeBeau’s distinctive chicken broth, which he sipped at with enthusiasm, and the dizzy feeling subsiding as he concentrated on the action and his friend’s comforting presence. How he’d got back to camp, he had no idea, but he knew that whatever had happened, he was safe now.


	6. Rip

The gentle patter of rain on the roof made the interior of barracks two seem that much warmer, though only really because it was dry. Most of the inhabitants were huddled under blankets, complaining, but LeBeau had some work to keep him warm- buried in the midst of a pile of Nazi uniforms, he was using their enforced downtime to perform much-needed maintenance, listening whilst his comrades played cards at the table.

The first step was to inspect the individual items in the repair pile, sizing up his workload for the day. Picking out one particularly mangled piece, he held it so that all the card players could see.

"How did _this_ happen?" The pair of trousers had a large, jagged rip in the front from knee to ankle.

Everyone looked up from their hands, but only Carter grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, LeBeau, that was me."

" _How_? You must have been trying. This is too elaborate for an accident."

"I got it caught on the ladder coming back down."

"'Coming back down'?" Kinch repeated, "You mean that wasn't even done in action?"

"Well, there's this nail on the fourth rung from the bottom, you know the one, and I noticed it on the way out but we were in a hurry, and you guys were-"

"Carter, come over here." LeBeau interrupted.

Like a well-trained dog, the sergeant put down his cards and moved to sit next to his friend. The offending trousers were thrust into his lap.

"But Louis, I-"

"I will teach you how to fix them." The Frenchman sighed, realising that this was probably the only thing that would be finished properly today.

"And I'll deal with that nail." Kinch added, putting down his own cards. "Boy, Andrew, how come none of the rest of us have caught ourselves on that?"

"Well, the nail's not that big. More like a screw, actually." Carter took the proffered needle and started trying to thread it. "Y'know, it might just be a staple."

Kinch rolled his eyes, opening up the bunk. "He destroys a pair of trousers on a staple. That's our Andrew."


	7. Music

"This again, really?"

"It's the only thing out."

"Newkirk, you do know we do have a record cabinet, right?"

"Yeah- for our record, singular."

"What?"

"You missed the last dodgeball game, didn't you?"

"Yeah…"

"Well, I think you can guess what happened."

" _All_ of them? You guys managed to break every single record that we had?"

"Except this one, and that’s only because the guv had it in his office."

"Why was that?"

"He says it’s the only decent piece of music in camp."

"Well, it was, at least."

"What’s wrong with ‘Flying Home’?"

"Nothing, but I’m not doing it…"


	8. Shoes

"And here are your Red Cross supplies." Schultz placed a small stack of boxes on the table in barracks two. "Now, I will see you-"

"Is this it, Schultz?" Colonel Hogan looked at the boxes incredulously. "These- how many are there, - three boxes, for this whole barracks?"

The sergeant made an expressive gesture with his hands, shrugging apologetically. "Not for this barracks, for the whole camp. The supply line from Frankfurt has been taken over for use by-" he cut off suddenly, looking around the prisoners. "By I don't know who."

There was instant outcry from the prisoners.

"Bloody cheek, I don't know-"

"There's not going to be nearly enough-"

"Alright, hold it down." Hogan stared at Schultz. "Did you at least get my new shoes? I don't think I can stand the leaks any longer."

Schultz smiled. "I made sure they were here, Colonel, they are in the second box." He didn't seem to notice that the main team immediately lunged for the box as Hogan escorted their Sergeant from the barracks.

"Thanks a million, Schultz, I won't forget it." By the time the door was closed, the shoes had been located, and the team went into Hogan's office. "Let's see what these have to say for themselves, shall we?"

Reaching inside the first shoe, Hogan scrabbled for a minute before lifting up the sole, and the lining under that. Concealed within was not only a hollowed-out heel stuffed with wire, but a neatly folded map of an area further down the escape line.

"Start copying that out tonight, Newkirk, we can give it to this next batch to be moved out."

"Yes, sir."

"And Kinch, here are those wires you requested."

The radio man smiled. "They took their time, but at least they got here."

"Isn't there anything for me, Colonel?" Carter asked, disappointed.

"We haven't looked in the other shoe yet," The Colonel replied, "I'm sure Santa didn't forget you, Carter."

Opening the lining in the same way, a handful of the new thinner type of detonator cap fell out, and Hogan quickly handed them to the excited Sergeant hovering at his elbow. The last item in the shoe was a small thermometer, which was presented to LeBeau. The cook's eyes saucered.

"How long have I been asking for this? And now I finally get it." He grinned. "Tomorrow night, you will be eating some of my finest dishes."

Now alone in his office, Hogan pulled on the empty shoes, happy that damp feet could now become a distant memory, and grinned at the joy a pair of shoes could bring.


	9. Crawl

It wasn't the best of jobs, but an essential one: the inspection of the more remote and unused tunnels of the Stalag thirteen network for cave-ins or other problems. Common faults were cracking supports, small puddles, and electric cable wear, and it was the latter of these that had turned Corporal Newkirk's situation into a very uncomfortable one.

Reduced to a crawl, he felt his way forwards with one hand outstretched, shuffling along on his knees and wondering exactly where he was. He had a good sense of direction, but underground in complete darkness put a different spin on it, and he couldn't actually be sure that he was in tunnel thirty-four. Continuing forwards, he made sour note of a puddle as he splashed into it by accident, wondering if he would ever find his way out in order to tell the Colonel. Speaking of a way out, he had just come to a junction, and-

"Uh, Newkirk?"

Had he been standing up, he would have jumped three feet in the air, but as it was, he only tried to sit up without thinking, and hit his head on a roof board.

"Blimey, Carter, you nearly gave me a heart attack." He replied breathlessly. "Where'd you spring from?"

"Tunnel four. Colonel Hogan sent me down to find you."

There was a moment of silence in the dark. "Tunnel _four?_ "

"Yeah, it comes from that lobby under the rec hall, and-"

"Never mind that, I wasn't lost. What does the Colonel want?"

"He just wanted to ask you a quick question."

"What is it?" Newkirk growled, becoming impatient.

"Well, I don't know, he wanted to ask you."

Another silence fell, neither man moving, and only the sound of breathing filled the low-ceilinged junction. Eventually, Newkirk snapped "Well, are you gonna move, or not?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry, let's go…"


End file.
